The Other Side of Darkness
by StormyMonday
Summary: The war is over, but not all is well. After suffering a devastating loss, followed by weeks of soul searching, Allen decides to leave the Order. In retrospect, it may be the best decision he's ever made. [implied Allen/Lenalee, Allen/OC, other OCs, canon cameos, canon divergent] Delayed, COVID worries
1. Away from the Sun

_Author's notes: This story takes place after the conclusion of the Ark arc and pretends like the series wraps right then and there. In other words, no Level 4 arc, and definitely no Noah memories/Allen disappearing weirdness. I'm more than happy to leave the latter to Hoshino-sensei, and fanfic writers more talented than I._

 _[Standard disclaimer goes here.]_

 _Warnings: Possible OOCness depending on how you see things. Not beta read._

* * *

 **September, 1900**

Mixed emotions washed over the now freelance Exorcist as he laid a bouquet of flowers on the memorial dedicated to his friend and former comrade. It had been four years since her death, and even now, though her body had never been recovered from the murky ocean depths off the coast of China, a part of him refused to believe she had died alongside the Level Three they referred to as Eshi. He never once doubted it when they said there was no stopping her once she'd made the decision to go after the beast, but what he _couldn't_ understand was that they let her face the demon alone. That wasn't teamwork, as she and Lavi were so quick to remind him in the past, it was suicide. Most people would have been angry, but he preferred to believe that they were wrong and that she was out there recovering in some peaceful, out of the way place.

At first, that is.

As days turned to weeks, and weeks to months after their hard-won victory over the Earl, his optimism faded as anger, guilt and frustration slowly erased the silver lining of the very dark and persistent thunderhead towering above him. It was heavy and stifling, making him feel as if he were being crushed under its ever-present weight.

And so, one very long and sleepless night after visiting her empty room, he made a decision that, only a few months ago, he would never have considered - to gather his belongings and leave the Order for good. After all, the missions were now generally of the cleanup variety, and those that weren't were more suited to the intelligence gatherers, neither of which he wanted to be a part of.

Since then, he wandered, sometimes aimlessly, other times with specific destinations in mind, but two things never changed: the promise he made to Mana, and his calling to free the remaining akuma whenever and wherever he found them.

A soft, unusually warm breeze caressed his skin as he pulled back the hood of his uniform and then wiped away a few stray tears, a mixture of sadness and resolve reflected in his silver eyes. This was madness, and it was time to move on. "Goodbye Lenalee. I'm sorry, for everything."

 **:::**

After leaving Lenalee's memorial site, Allen returned to his room at the hotel. Surprisingly, he slept rather well that night, something he couldn't remember doing in quite some time, if ever. Maybe she had given him her blessing, or maybe the past 1, 460 days had taken more of a toll on him than he realized. Either way, it didn't matter. He was ready to finally stand on his own and make a life for himself.

The next morning found the nineteen-year-old and his always-faithful companion at a small, out-of-the-way table in the hotel's downstairs restaurant finishing breakfast and planning their next destination. "So Tim, where should we go next?" The little golem ascended from its perch atop the young man's shoulder and projected an image on the opposite wall.

Allen sighed heavily and shook his head, the light of a new day's optimism fading quickly from his silver eyes. The balance between life and death was slowly being restored throughout the world, but because the remaining akuma were now without a purpose and a master, they were more destructive than ever. This however, didn't look like the work of the wayward, unrestrained demons, although it was inevitable they would be flocking to the devastation like moths to a flame. Allen didn't let himself think about how high the death toll must be.

Somehow the image seemed familiar but he couldn't quite place it. "I see. Where is this?"

The little winged ball answered by replacing the first image with a map of the United States and a storm track graphic.

The Exorcist raised an eyebrow as visions of cacti, endless expanses of desert, tumbleweeds, and daily gunfights came to mind. If he was correct in assuming this wasn't _caused_ by akuma, then it must have been the aftermath of a natural disaster. With visions of the 'Wild West' firmly cemented in his mind, Allen offhandedly hoped the womanizing, alcoholic he used to call Master had never ventured that far south in his time traveling across the pond, because that was exactly where he and Timcanpy were going. If nothing else, he could at least help the townspeople rebuild.

* * *

 _Short chapter is short, sorry. It took me literally weeks to write, and was originally more…in-depth. After several rewrites, the whole thing just felt sluggish, so this is the end result. I absolutely loathe writing first chapters. Anyway, I still have some important details to pin down and don't really know how often I'll update, so please bear with me._

 _Oh, and if I don't get the next chapter out before Christmas or New Year's Day, Happy Holidays! ;)_


	2. Accidental Irony

**October**

 **Houston, Texas**

" _The world is so unpredictable. Things happen suddenly, unexpectedly. We want to feel we're in control of our own existence. In some ways we are, in some ways we're not. We are ruled by the forces of chance and coincidence." – Paul Auster_

Until the clock chimed, Allen wasn't sure what time it was. The dreamless sleep he had lapsed into only seconds after hitting the cobblestone street below was something of a double-edged sword, oddly comforting and somewhat distressing at the same time – comforting in the sense that he hadn't woken up in a cold sweat for once, but distressing in that his nightmares had become sadly comforting. At the very least, they were one of the few constants in his life.

Once he had fully awakened, though, and adjusted his vision to the gently flickering, lavender-scented candles illuminating the room, it was clear that the past hours had done little to ease the pain from his injuries. It was all very ironic, laughable even, that he could count on one hand the number of times he'd hurt this badly. At some point in his life, although he wasn't sure when or where, he'd heard it said that something as trivial as a paper cut could cause more pain than a life threatening injury. Under the circumstances, it seemed like a fair comparison.

Surveying the room as best as he could – his head hurt and his vision was still somewhat blurred – it was clear that he was definitely _not_ in a doctor's office, and certainly not a hospital, but rather the bedroom of a residence, likely a small house. Judging by the furnishings and décor, it was reasonable to assume that a woman lived here.

"What happened to your eye?"

And apparently, a young child.

Turning his head, Allen was met by a curious little girl of no more than seven or eight years, with shoulder-length, light-brown hair and hazel eyes, dressed in a pink, long-sleeved cotton nightgown fringed by white frills. Evidently, he was still somewhat dazed, otherwise he would have noticed the girl standing _right next to him._ Unsure of how to answer the girl, or whether to change the subject entirely, he decided to sit up first, only to be forced back by a sharp, searing pain in his side.

The little girl frowned. "Momma told me to tell you that you shouldn't try to move around too much yet."

Allen winced and groaned softly. "That…would have been more helpful if you had told me five seconds ago, but thank you. I'll keep that in mind." Carefully, he took in a slow breath before regarding the small creature kneeling beside the bed. "What's your name, little one?"

She smiled brightly, shifting her weight on her knees. "Emily Mae Dawson, but Momma usually just calls me 'Emi' or 'Em' for short." She tilted her head. "What's yours?"

He brought a gloved hand from beneath the covers, offering it to the girl, smiling as she tentatively wrapped her small fingers around his. "It's very nice to meet you, Emily Mae Dawson. My name is Allen Walker."

Emily pulled back her hand, still studying him. "I'm supposed to tell her if you need anything." She inched closer. "So?"

"So…what?"

"Do you?"

Allen shook his head, amused. "No, thank you. Where is your mother, anyway? Surely you aren't here by yourself."

Wide-eyed, she mimicked him, shaking her head, as well. "Uh-uh. Momma's washing the blood out of your clothes. She says you got hurt real bad."

Allen blinked. "My…clothes?"

Emily nodded, folded her hands on the side of the bed, then rested her chin on them. "Mhm."

Suddenly things had gone from absurd and mildly amusing to awkward and uncomfortable, in more ways than one. Maybe he hadn't noticed immediately, due to being covered by two soft sheets and a heavy comforter, or the strange, dull, tingling sensation coursing through his skin. "So…is your father a doctor?" It was a reasonable conclusion, given the circumstances.

The girl shook her head. "I don't think so. Momma says he's in Heaven."

He glanced away for an instant, and then back, her matter-of-fact tone sounding more like she had just stated something obvious, like the sky was blue, or water wet. Truthfully, even though her answer made him feel guilty, Allen was relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with a potentially jealous or controlling husband. Unfortunately, he'd witnessed similar situations while under General Cross' so-called mentorship. "Oh...I'm very sorry for your loss."

She tilted her head. "Why?"

"Don't you miss him?"

Emily shrugged. "I never met him."

Nodding, Allen considered his own childhood, or lack thereof, if only briefly. Single mothers were something of a rare species as far as he knew, most staying with family until another suitable husband agreed to marry her and provide for them. If not that, occasionally there was an even rarer type of woman, the prostitute who found herself pregnant, but actually decided to _keep_ the baby. Both scenarios had always left him feeling quite bitter the few times he bothered to think about them, despite not having any firsthand knowledge of either.

Pushing these dark thoughts back out into the universe, a much lighter question replaced them, and he turned his attention back to the child. "Tell me, do like clowns?" Considering the company, and that he was at a marked disadvantage anyway, it seemed like a legitimate topic for conversation.

She shook her head. "No."

Allen blinked in disbelief. That certainly wasn't the answer he had expected. "Why not?"

Pensive, she frowned. "Momma says clowns are scary and evil."

Allen raised an eyebrow at this. "Scary and evil, huh? That's a bit harsh. Why would she say something like that?"

"I dunno." Suddenly bored with the conversation, the little girl bounced to her feet, a sudden light sparking in her hazel irises. "Don't go _anywhere._ I'll be right back."

He exhaled, turning his attention to the ceiling for no discernible reason than it was there. "Right." It was just as well.

Left alone, he pushed through the same sharp, burning pain he'd experienced before and sat up, lifting the covers just enough to see underneath. A blood-soaked bandage was barely visible under a thin hospital gown, its gauze encompassing the area from just under his lower ribs downward toward his hip on his right side.

Sighing in relief that he was at least wearing _something_ , he then arranged the pillow to a more comfortable position, and carefully leaned back. He'd found himself in more than a few strange predicaments before, but this wasn't one of them. A brief moment later, his ears perked at the sound of two voices not far away. One he assumed to be the girl's mother, while the other was clearly Emily's.

" _Excuse me. And just what do you think you're doing up so late, young lady?"_

" _I'm taking Mister Jellybeans to meet Mister Allen."_

An exasperated sigh followed. _"I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I told you not to bother him! Never mind that it's_ _ **way**_ _past your bedtime!"_

The little girl replied without missing a beat, and he could practically hearher mischievous grin. _"You said not to bother him while he was_ _ **sleeping**_ _."_ __She paused for a brief instant. _"I like him. He's interesting."_

The woman sighed heavily, her response laced with a slight groan. _"Of course he is…"_ A brief second passed and the older woman spoke once again, this time her tone much lighter. _"Alright, take Mister Jellybeans for a visit and then it's back to bed with you."_

" _You're no fun. I'm not even tired,"_ Emily pouted.

" _I'm going to be even less fun if you keep sassin' me, smarty pants,"_ the older woman replied, her stern words contrasting with the smile in her voice.

Within a few seconds, the little girl entered the room, followed closely by her mother – a petite, sapphire-eyed young woman, wearing a powder-blue dress and slipper-flats, her sunshine-blonde hair pulled back into a looped ponytail-bun.

Emily reclaimed her previous place beside Allen's bed and offered her favorite stuffed animal – a white unicorn with multicolored yarn for its mane and tail and pieces of felt for eyes. She smiled, and her eyes lit up when her new friend accepted the toy. "This is Mister Jellybeans. He always helps me feel better when I'm not feeling good."

The girl's mother smiled. The abyss had nearly swallowed her only child nary a few short years earlier, and yet her childish wonder and innocence remained firmly intact, despite the side effects the incident had caused. She tried not to think about it – there wasn't any point, really – that because of her ability, she was rarely able to make friends with other children, and the few times she had, those friendships hadn't lasted. "Happy now?"

Emily nodded, then turned to Allen before padding over to her mother. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Em. It was nice meeting you." He held up the small toy. "And don't worry, I'll take good care of him." Toys were important to children, or so had gathered by way of watching them and their parents during his time with Mana and the circus, as well as his travels with General Cross, and later, his comrades.

The blonde let Emily go ahead of her and turned to her unfortunate guest. "I'm so sorry. I hope she didn't bother you too much."

Allen smiled obligingly. "Not at all."

The woman backed out of the room, pulling the door to behind her. Between Doc Baker's steady stitching hand and her healing ability, Lucinda was confident he was stable enough to be left alone for a few more minutes while she put Emily to bed.

:::

Several minutes and a light nap later, Allen woke again just as the blonde re-entered the room. She closed the door lightly and turned on the bedside table lamp before pulling a chair up next to the bed and sitting. "I swear, that girl will be the death of me someday." She turned her attention to him, silently assessing the situation. By no means was she a medical professional, nor had she ever claimed to be, but in her mind, her unique ability required the same amount of professionalism. She offered her hand. "Lucinda Dawson."

He reciprocated, adding a charming, yet somewhat ill-at ease smile, while absentmindedly fiddling with the multicolored yarn affixed to his temporary good luck charm. "Allen Walker. Pleased to meet you, Miss Dawson."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Please, call me Lucinda. Luci works, too, or even Cin." Suddenly, her expression seemed vexed. "Walker?" Aunt Charlie always told her to 'assume _nothing'._

Allen nodded, finding the change somewhat worrisome "Yes… Is something wrong?"

Lucinda shook her head, quickly letting her annoyance fade. "It's not a big deal, really. Just that I taught Em it's impolite to call adults by their first names."

He chuckled softly. "Ah- I don't mind. Really."

She sighed. It was a minor nuisance, one that she would deal with another time, likely in the morning. "So, how are you feeling?"

Allen's expression turned sober, and he returned to fidgeting with the stuffed toy. "A little confused, to be honest."

Lucinda was visibly concerned, shifting slightly and leaning in just a bit. "Confused?"

"Yes. Can you tell me how I got here?"

"You don't remember what happened?" He _seemed_ lucid enough. Still, he _had_ taken a pretty hard fall and a mild concussion was still a possibility.

Clearly, she was much more worried than she should be. If he were a normal human being, she would have had good reason to be. "Oh, it's not that. I just don't remember how I got _here_." He shifted slightly once again, careful not to aggravate his wound any further. "Or where this," he glanced to his side, "came from."

Lucinda sighed, relieved. "Oh, well, a piece of wrought iron fence decided it wanted to slice you open like a ripe avocado." She paused. "That's what I was told, anyway. The hospital's under quarantine, so they brought you here to recover after Doc Baker patched you up."

He frowned and looked away, now aware of irony's full contempt, as if the entire incident was some kind of cosmic practical joke. "I see." Admittedly, it was his own fault, but under the circumstances, it couldn't be helped. The area was simply too crowded at the time to use Clown Belt without anyone noticing.

Lucinda sighed, shaking her head. "You're lucky you weren't killed _._ "

Allen nodded, feeling somewhat guilty about intentionally misleading her. "I suppose that's true." He looked away, his voice softening. Being a burden on others was not something he took lightly, even when it seemed he had no other choice. "I-I'm sorry for inconveniencing you like this."

Lucinda offered him a reassuring smile. "Sometimes accidents are unavoidable."

Allen shook his head. "Well…you see I…I hammered my own thumb and then lost my footing on a loose shingle before falling." Given his role in fighting in a war very few people knew about and prophesied title, the incident in itself was regrettable to say the least.

She laughed softly, wondering if he had any idea how utterly charming and adorable he was, not to mention easy on the eyes. Thankfully, she had never been the scandalous type. Not that she wouldn't consider it should he express an interest, though.

She took in a cleansing breath, grounding her thoughts and energy. "You know, I'm going to have to see to your bandage at some point, right?"

Allen quickly held up a hand in protest. "Really...that's not-" Just then there came a light knock on the pulled-to door that no doubt belonged to Emily, and Luci pushed back a few strands of loose hair in frustration before crossing the few steps to open it.

Half asleep, the little girl stood in the doorway, rubbing her sleepy eyes and looking past her mother to Allen. "Your friend is here."


	3. Kids Say the Darndest Things (Spirited)

_**Important Notes. Please Read!**_ _Okay, I'll try to keep this short, but it has to be said. After rereading the previous chapter, I decided it wasn't really what I wanted to be. When I wrote it, I was going through some terrible recurring health problems, and I'm pretty sure I wrote most of it under the influence of fever, pain, and a lot of other crap. Since then I've been doing a lot better, and managed to regain my sanity. So! A couple of weeks ago (mid-October), I decided to rewrite a decent chunk of chapter two. With some excellent advice from Pinion Luchik, I fixed the pacing, added some dialogue and introspection,_ _ **and changed Grace's name to Lucinda.**_ _The revisions don't have a major impact on the story overall, though, so if you don't want to backtrack, that's fine._

 _Telepathic communication looks like 'this.'_

* * *

Allen tried not to think about exactly _how_ Timcanpy had managed to escape from their locked hotel room, although it was likely that he'd be responsible for paying for a broken door handle, or worse, window. Then again, the cost of such minor items would be the least expensive if the owner found out he had brought a pet onto the premises. Even though Tim wasn't a "pet" in the traditional sense, there was a sign out front that read very clearly, NO PETS. Regardless, the golem couldn't have had better timing, even having the forethought to bring his suitcase. And for that, Allen was beyond grateful.

Emily was clearly delighted by the strange creature's unexpected arrival, and Lucinda studied it from a respectable distance, half-wondering if this was one of those nonsensical dreams that only a licensed therapist could make sense of. She'd experienced many strange, oftentimes terrifying things in her life, but nothing like the suitcase-toting gold ball with a cross where its face should be, and teeth that could rival those of any self-respecting piranha.

She observed the three quietly as Em unleashed a barrage of questions pertaining to all-things-golem, with Allen fielding each one with patience and ease, even the ones he didn't have a solid answer to.

Even so, Emily was her only child, and she didn't like that the girl was becoming attached so quickly. At her age, disappointment was a difficult emotion to process.

Suddenly, her thoughts were broken by a creeping chill that enveloped her entire body like a frozen blanket, forcing her focus onto a slight shimmer waiting nearby, its mass connected to her daughter's new best friends by a thin, sturdy cord of energy.

Closing her eyes, she visualized a quaint, comfortably decorated sitting room, its entryway barricaded by a locked door. She looked up and the lock released itself, the door swinging open to reveal a dark-haired girl not too much younger than herself. _'Normally I wouldn't mind you being here, but this isn't the best time.'_

The girl floated past the threshold, having the courtesy to close the door behind her and reset the lock. If there was one thing she had learned very quickly, it was that there were multitudes of malicious things roaming the Other World, and _every single one of them_ had serious boundary issues.

The younger woman folded her hands in front of her and bowed slightly. _'I'm sorry for the intrusion. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.'_

* * *

As Lucinda continued to communicate with the tethered girl, Allen watched the blonde with quiet curiosity. The last time he remembered witnessing anything even remotely similar to this, a gypsy began faking a trancelike state in an attempt to scam a grieving, yet well-to-do widow out of a sizable amount of money by telling her that her husband had passed away as a result of a curse; one that only the well-rehearsed con-woman could remove with an immediate, cash-only transaction.

But Luci wasn't a gypsy, and this wasn't the circus. In fact, it seemed more like she was sleeping than anything else, as her breathing had slowed and she was sitting with her eyes closed and head bowed, with her hands folded in her lap.

Just then, Emily yawned. "Someone's here."

Allen glanced around the room. "Who?"

"Momma didn't tell you?"

"We haven't really had a chance to talk about much of anything, yet, so..."

Yet again, little girl's answer came as easily as if she were telling him that grass was green. "She can talk to dead people."

He repeated this unexpected information slowly, as if trying to comprehend it. "Talk to…dead people…?"

Compared to the rest of the world, his entire life had been one long, bizarre chain of events that even a seasoned science fiction or fantasy author would have been hard-pressed to invent. Looking back, though, Allen honestly couldn't recall ever meeting someone who possessed genuine psychic abilities without being in the presence of Innocence. To say that the irony was not lost on him would be an _enormous_ understatement, provided that what Emily just told him was indeed true.

Emily nodded. "Mhm." She pointed to the space where the light anomaly hovered. "See? It's right there."

Allen's gaze followed the girl's gesture to a barely discernible fluctuation in the empty space not far away. "I…"

Emily seemed confused. "But…you can see the scary things, right?"

Allen blinked. "Scary things?"

Emily closed her eyes for instant, then looked back up at him. "The things that look like machines with scary faces."

He froze, scarcely able to speak his next question. "H-How… How could you _possibly_ …?"

At a loss, he tried to rationalize the little girl's words. There were plenty of civilians who _had_ seen akuma, after all, a good many who would have been happy to share their harrowing encounters for a fair price, so the most plausible explanation was that she had seen a drawing, or possibly even a photograph of one on a newsstand somewhere.

Emily shrugged. "I can see people's memories." She paused. "And sometimes demons."

Then again...

Recovering from the initial shock, Allen's concern shifted more closely to the little girl perched on the bed beside him. "Emi?"

"Hm?"

"How long have you been able to see these things?"

She didn't even have to take time to think of an answer. "A long time."

"And…what do the demons you see look like?"

"They're different than the ones you see."

"How so?"

"Some look like people and like to bite and scratch, and some look like," she paused, looking for the right words, "goo, or icky vines."

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved that the things she described to him sounded more like what the Vatican was best known for dealing with regularly, or mortified that she had such an ability to begin with. Even more bizarre, though, was how comfortable she seemed with it all.

Before he could ask her anymore questions, she yawned again and hopped down from the bed. "I'm tired. Goodnight. I hope you feel better."

Allen nodded and wrapped his arms around the stuffed unicorn she had given him earlier as she padded out of the room. "Goodnight." He then looked to Timcanpy. "Go with her, please."

Momentarily left to his own thoughts, a sickening realization forced him to hug the girl's doll tighter; Lulu Bell could see memories, too.

* * *

 _Uhum...so, mini cliffhanger here. I've only recently watched the entire series (minus Hallow, because I'm boycotting that hot mess) in Japanese, and it dawned on me_ _ **long**_ _after writing Emily saying she "sees memories" that Lulu Bell actually does this in canon. I completely forgot! Anyway, I figured hearing that from her might put Allen on the defensive, if only temporarily. Chapter four will be longer, and will clear up a lot of things, I promise!_


	4. Kindred Spirits (Part One)

_Author's notes: I kind of feel like this is a long way to say a whole lotta nothin'. 2,201 words (sans notes) to be exact. I promise this night will come to an end, it's just that there's so much to cover that I felt like breaking things up would be a lot less stressful for me, and y'all wouldn't have to wait so long for updates._

 _Cheers, and thank you for your support!_

* * *

 **Kindred Spirits**

 **(Part One)**

Allen shook his head, forcing back the tidal wave of negativity that would surely drown him if he let it.

There was no reason for a child's words to elicit such deep feelings of paranoia and fear. It was irrational, and quite frankly, it made him feel guilty that he was even capable of jumping to such dreadful conclusions about the girl and her mother.

He shivered slightly and pulled the covers up more closely as a dry and chill, late night breeze drifted in from the open window across the room.

 _An open window…?_

Now he felt even more guilty. There was no way a Noah would have overlooked such an obvious escape route, and in fact, would have likely had him restrained by Dark Matter chains before he even woke up.

Or, Road would have, at least. The mere _idea of_ the Noah of Dreams making him her personal plaything sent shivers down his spine, and he sunk down further into the soft bedding, as if doing so would erase the trauma she had inflicted upon him, mentally and physically.

A slight movement just off to his left broke through these dark musings, and he looked over to see Lucinda reaching up to rub her eyes. "Miss Luci…?"

Tears began welling from her eyes, and she gasped on reflex as Allen's voice broke through the haze left behind by the dead girl's chaotic emotional state.

Ignoring the pain in his side, Allen sat up straight and pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand and offered it to the now-sobbing woman. "Miss Luci…are you okay?"

She took in another ragged breath and nodded, quietly accepting the tissue.

Several seconds passed, and she was able to steady her breathing while releasing the girl's guilt and sadness from herself, as well as the rest of the room before standing and walking over to the window.

Lowering it a bit, she turned to Allen, her voice a bit unsteady when she spoke. "You must be hungry by now. How about I get us both something to eat."

The whole thing lasted only a few minutes, but Allen was still left feeling vexed and uneasy. Maybe, though, it was best to save his concerns for later, and he rewound what little he could remember of the day in his mind, back to the last time he'd eaten. It had definitely been much longer than he was used to waiting.

He glanced quickly at the window, then back to her, a spark lighting his mercury irises. "Ah, I'd eat tree bark at this point if that's all you could spare." As if on cue, his stomach chose that exact moment to agree, and a hint of pink graced his light skin.

Her tension subdued and her emotions stabilized, Luci raised an eyebrow and giggled. "I don't imagine tree bark would do much to help heal that wound of yours. Would you settle for chicken and dumplings?"

Allen nodded, offering her a soft, somewhat chagrined smile. "Yes, please."

 **:::**

Before heading to the kitchen, she walked across the hallway to check on Emily.

Carefully and quietly, she pushed the door open and walked over to the bed. Emily was sound asleep, with Tim perched on the headboard as if guarding the girl.

The golem greeted Lucinda with a grin, and she returned a smile, offering him a quiet 'thank you'.

She then crossed to the bed and gently brushed back a few strands of hair from Emily's face before placing a kiss on her forehead.

Satisfied that everything finally seemed to be falling into place, she left the room and crossed the hall, poking her head in to check with Allen. She sent him the 'OK' sign to him, and he replied with a smile.

In the relative dark of the hallway, she turned away and leaned back against the wall, hoping he hadn't seen her blush.

 **:::**

A few moments later, Lucinda returned carrying a small, wooden tray holding two bowls, two glasses of amber, iced liquid, two napkins, and two forks. She turned slightly after entering the room, and pushed the door shut. Carefully setting the tray down on the nightstand, she ducked under the bed and retrieved collapsible table which she unfolded and set upright before putting her bowl and glass on it.

Reasonably confident that his stitches were still intact, Allen leaned over and took the tray. She was already catering to him far too much for his liking, and he wasn't about to let her do anymore than necessary.

Lucinda sat down and pulled the taller table holding her food in front of her. She picked up her fork, skewered a dumpling, nibbling on it as she watched Allen with amusement, who was clearly trying to pace himself.

After finishing her dumpling, she set her fork down and took a drink, smiling over the rim of her glass. "How is it?"

Allen nodded and hummed happily, not considering his reply. "I think I'm in love."

Suddenly flustered at his own words, he quickly stuffed another forkful of dumplings into his mouth, that ridiculously familiar heat licking at his skin once again.

Desperate for a distraction, he glanced at his drink, which looked suspiciously like tea, but with ice cubes.

A small smile tugged at Lucinda's lips. "Traditional southern sweet tea. I know it's probably not what you fussy Brits are used to, but I don't keep alcohol and your only other choices are milk or water."

He took a long drink of the lightly sweet liquid. "Oh no, this is perfect, thank you. I don't drink, anyway, so... "

She took a sip of tea. "So what are you doing so far from home?"

Allen's expression fell slightly and he took another bite of chicken before answering. "Hurricane recovery efforts."

She nodded. He wasn't the first person who had traveled such a long distance to help start clearing debris and recovering, waterlogged, decaying bodies in their sister city to the south. "Even if they were still talking volunteers, that's a dangerous task. Certainly not for the faint of heart."

"So I've heard."

She was surprised at the sudden hint of bitterness in his reply.

Allen scraped at the remnants at the bottom of his bowl, keeping his eyes fixed on the dish. "I just wish I could have gotten here sooner." A moment passed and he turned back to her. "The island isn't too far from here, right?"

"That's right."

"Did you visit there often before this?"

Lucinda nodded. "Aunt Charlie and Uncle Jack used to take me there all the time when I was a girl, We started taking Em when she was about six months."

Allen smiled softly. "That sounds nice."

"It was. We haven't been back in a while, though."

"Why's that?"

"Well, Uncle Jack passed about two years ago, and Aunt Charlie met a nice fella recently and moved away to be with him."

"I see… So…is it just you and Emi here by yourselves, then?"

She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and tilted her head. "Are you asking if I have a man in my life?"

Allen held up a hand defensively. "N-No…that's not… I was just-" Somehow, he managed to find time to take a breath. "I'm sorry. That's not at all what I meant."

It really was a completely innocent question, though he would have been lying if he didn't admit to being a little curious.

She smiled, finding his awkwardness both amusing and endearing. "No, it's just us girls."

"Oh…" He paused, this time making sure his mind and mouth were in sync. "I'm very sorry about your uncle."

Smiling wistfully, she glanced to one side as if someone was standing nearby. "Thank you." She paused. "And you?"

"Me?"

She held out a hand, spreading her fingers. "Certainly you must have a girl waiting for you back across the pond?"

Just finishing the remnants left in his bowl, Allen shook his head in the negative. "Why do you ask?"

She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Just curious."

She stood, taking their empty dishes and setting them on the little tray before picking it up. "More?"

He nodded, suddenly feeling as though there was some sort of disconnect between her words and whatever she was thinking. "Y-Yes, please."

:::

Lucinda smiled to herself as she made her way to the kitchen. Aside from the occasional, woefully inadequate and sometimes difficult suitors, it had been a long, dry road since Tanner died. She couldn't help but admit how nice it felt to be appreciated by, not only another adult, but a member of the opposite sex, even if he did seem a little naïve.

Then again, she wasn't the worldliest girl either, having spent the last seven years primarily focused on Emily. Despite caring for a gifted child, and countless spirits in that time, there were many lonely nights when she wished for a level of companionship that neither could give her.

Setting the tray down on the countertop, Luci turned up the heat on the stove, then filled their glasses and waited for the chicken and dumplings to warm through.

Leaning against the cabinets, she sighed, running her fingers through her long, side swept bangs.

It really _had_ been too long.

* * *

Something occurred to Lucinda as she returned to the bedroom and found Timcampy perched on Allen's shoulder.

She pushed the door closed once again and handed the tray to Allen, setting her own glass on the taller tray table before sitting. "You know, I didn't even think to ask – does he," she gestured toward Tim, "eat?"

Allen acknowledged her mid-dumpling. "Oh, he _can_ eat, but doesn't _need_ to."

Just then, Tim lifted from Allen's shoulder, turning to face his friend.

Lucinda could have sworn the little creature was pouting. It was an amusing and bizarre sight the very same time.

Allen sighed in defeat, knowing very well he'd never hear the end of it if he denied the golem _at_ _least_ a taste. Over the past four years, they had become accustomed to sharing almost everything. "All right, all right."

He cut a dumpling in half, skewered it and then held it out to his winged friend. "Here."

As Tim inhaled his prize, Allen regarded Lucinda with curiosity. "By the way, did you make all this?"

She nodded, a hint of melancholy in her voice betraying the small smile playing on her lips. "Would it surprise you if I said you're the first _non_ -family member I've cooked for?"

He nodded.

She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. "I never got a chance to cook for Tanner."

Allen gave Tim one last bite and rested his fork against the inside of his empty bowl. "Was he your," he glanced quickly at her unadorned ring finger, "…Emily's father?"

She nodded again, leaning a little on the table. "We weren't married, though. As soon as I started to suspect I was pregnant, he went out west to the coal mines to make sure we would be provided for."

Again, Allen found himself apologizing for something mere words could never mend. "I'm sorry. Do you…" He took in a deep breath, taking the opportunity to reconcile his curiosity and put his unease to rest. "Do you speak with him often?"

It sounded like such a ridiculous thing to ask. He'd freed more than his fair share of imprisoned souls, but they rarely spoke to him, and certainly never stopped for a conversation.

Thoroughly amused, Lucinda laughed. If she had a dime for every person who thought talking to spirits was the same as taking to living people, she'd have a decent-sized savings account. "Emily told you, did she?"

Relieved, Allen sighed mentally. In all honesty, he half-expected a tongue lashing for asking such an uninformed question. "She said he's 'in Heaven' and that she's 'never met him'."

She laughed again and shook her head, a smile lighting her eyes. "It's true. Tanner stopped by the day I brought Emi home from the hospital. I haven't actually seen or spoken with him since, though."

"Hospital?"

"She was a difficult birth."

"Oh?"

"You're surprised?"

He shook his head and laughed quietly. "No, I don't suppose I am." Another pause led him to what had set his nerves on edge in the first place. "Tell me… She also said she can see people's memories… Is that true?"

Lucinda sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, it's not that simple." She waved a hand. "Em tells people that because it's the only way she can make sense of things right now."

Allen tilted his head a bit and let her continue.

"Em is a psychic medium."

"And you?"

"I'm an empathic medium."

"Really…"

Lucinda nodded and folded her hands in her lap, offhandedly reminding herself to ask if he'd like her to close the window now that the weather had turned cold. "Do you…believe the soul continues to exist after death?"

"I know it does."

"Then it wouldn't surprise you if I said you have three spirits around you right now."

Allen paled. "…What?"

Lucinda nodded. "Does the name Lenalee mean anything to you?"

* * *

 _I don't remember if I mentioned it before, but the_ _ **other**_ _catalyst for this story is the Great Storm of 1900, which leveled Galveston Island and killed at least 12, 000 people. Yes, that's_ _ **three**_ _zeroes. Anyone who is familiar with this part of the US knows we (I consider myself a native Texan) have a seawall, but that wasn't always the case. Most of the casualties were a direct result of a 15ft storm surge. Just think about that for a minute. Imagine Katrina, but with little warning and being inundated by a massive wall of water all at once, in the middle of the night. By comparison, my research indicates that Houston, which is only a little over 20 miles away, was relatively unscathed. True story. Google it. The pictures of the destruction are mind blowing._

 _Lastly, she sees him as somewhat naïve in the romance department. But is he? I know there's some debate on that issue out there on the interwebs. I'm personally on the fence, so I'll say…not completely. ;)_


	5. Kindred Spirits (Part Two)

_Author's notes: Just a heads up before we go any further, this is not a slow-burn romance. Firstly, because those require patience and a lot more worldbuilding than I'm willing to go through. Secondly...those types of stories are only realistic under certain conditions. Let's face it, most people_ _ **don't**_ _do the 'friends' to lovers thing. More often than not (in my experience), boy meets girl (and vice versa), boy asks girl on a date and they go from there. That isn't to say that Allen and Lucinda aren't hesitant about the whole thing, though._

 _Telepathic communication looks like 'this'._

* * *

 **Kindred Spirits (Part Two)**

"Lena…lee…?" Stunned, Allen stared at Lucinda for several seconds before looking away.

Lucinda sighed as Allen's chaos began to seep into her protective light bubble, furthering her exhaustion.

She stood and reached over to take his tray table, setting it on the dresser before crossing to the bed and sitting beside him.

Chase would have an aneurysm if he knew his baby cousin was giving a complete stranger – a very fit and handsome young man – this kind of attention. He'd never been secretive about voicing his concerns that Lucinda let her empathy rule her judgement far too often, and that while it was an admirable way of thinking, he was sure there would be a time when her intuition would lead her down a dark, possibly even dangerous path. To hear him say it, Emily was proof she'd already begun that journey, and he never missed a chance to tell her 'I told you so', despite his adoration for the little girl.

Lucinda pondered this briefly, the irritation of their last argument echoing sharply in her mind.

Pushing Chase's judgment and harsh words aside, she returned her attention Allen. "We don't have to do this right now, you know. I can send them away until tomorrow if you're not up for it."

Allen shook his head. "No, I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure?"

Allen nodded, though still unsure whether the dead really were capable of advanced communication, and moving freely between this world and the next – whatever and wherever that was, if it even existed at all.

Luci settled back against the free pillow and inhaled deeply, momentarily closing her eyes. "Alright…"

She opened her eyes and her gaze automatically drifted to the space just inside the doorway. "Miss Lena has two older males with her – one is older than the other and…" She turned her attention back to Allen. "The one who is talking to me now definitely has a direct connection to you, but he doesn't want to show me his face." She paused. "I'll be honest with you, that by itself makes me uneasy."

She sighed and continued. "He's showing me a lot of colors for some reason, but they don't seem to be coming together to form a picture of any kind…"

Her brows knit. _Why is that…?_

Instead of receiving an answer, a different image formed in her mind. Blinking, she fixed Allen with a perplexed expression. "You…used to be a red-head?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Allen laughed nervously. "Yes, well… It's all a bit complicated…"

Her curiosity was intense, but she pushed it aside and resumed her mediation. "I get that he was a people person…and I see that he… _both of you_ …were often surrounded by a lot of people."

Reserving explanations for later, Allen simply nodded this time, though he was certain that he felt a comforting and familiar presence that didn't seem to be there a few minutes ago.

Her voice lowered and she shook her head as she seemed to address dead air. "Ah, no need, but thank you."

Noting her change in tone, Allen tilted his head in curiosity. "What was that about?"

She shrugged. "He's explaining why he didn't want to show me his face."

"And?"

Her entire body tensed, and the soft light in her eyes turned cold. "He thought I might confuse him with the bastard who almost kidnapped Emi."

Suddenly, a wall of confusion hit Allen, and he gasped. "…What?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "That's not important right now."

As quickly as it had faded, the smile returned to her sapphire-colored eyes. "He says he's very proud of you, Allen…and that he knows you were confused when he said that he loved you, but he wants you to know that he meant it, despite everything that happened that night."

It was all Allen could do to keep himself together, much less speak coherently at this point. "Mm-Mana…?"

An expression of understanding spread across her face, and she laughed softly. "He says that you're his favorite child."

Absentmindedly, Allen wiped away the sudden, blinding flood of tears before breaking into a strangled laugh. "That's easily the _stupidest_ thing he's ever said."

Luci smiled and handed him a tissue. "Seems like you two were quite the pair."

Somehow, Allen managed to calm himself enough to speak. "Th-Thank you. " He nodded. "We had a lot of fun together." For a moment, he was thoughtful. "In a way, I suppose you could say that he saved me…"

"He says all he's ever wanted is for you to be happy."

Lucinda's gaze drifted back to the doorway and she nodded. "Yes, of course."

Before heading into the shadows, the clown chuckled. _'He's still not quite sure what to make of you and your little demon whisperer.'_

' _I'm well aware.'_

As the dead manreachedtheendofhishost'simaginaryhallway _,_ hewinked _. 'Look sharp little lady!'_

Lucinda gasped, narrowly catching a red, rubber ball before it hit her.

For a few seconds, she stared at it. Even now, Spirit abilities never ceased to amaze her.

She turned to a wide-eyed and very speechless Allen, handing him the trinket. Obviously, he had seen it materialize out of thin air just as she had.

 **:::**

Several quiet moments later, Allen found himself twisting a few threads of Mister Jellybeans' multicolored mane around his fingers, while holding the phantom rubber ball securely in the other.

He set the unicorn down and let his now-free right hand find hers. "This is difficult for you, isn't it?" While it was true they barely knew each other, Allen could tell that her energy was quickly waning.

Lucinda took in a slow breath to keep herself from yet again blushing like a love-struck schoolgirl. Some would say it irrational, or even irresponsible, but she couldn't help but like Allen much more than she should, already.

Unfortunately, the reality was that he was nursing a very deep, and still open emotional wound, one that could easily take quite some to heal, even after he'd been given the permission he needed to begin healing.

Lucinda smiled appreciatively. "I've been a medium my whole life. I'm used to it."

He held the ball into the light, studying it. "But this…" He turned to her, curious. "Do these things happen often?"

She closed her eyes, taking advantage of the brief respite. "It's a little more common with child spirits, to be honest."

Allen chuckled softly at the irony. Mana always did have an eccentric sense of humor.

There came a few more quiet moments before a dark-blue orb appeared in the room.

Lucinda acknowledged him, and held up her index finger, asking him to wait a few minutes longer.

He manifested into his human form and did as she asked, leaning against the doorframe. The blue-eyed German's one wish was to ease the young exorcist's mind, and then be on his way back home.

Lenalee, however, was a different story. There were still things left unsaid between herself and Allen, and she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to finally speak her mind. One thing she was fairly certain of, he wasn't going to like what she had to say when it came to a certain, difficult subject.

* * *

 _My numbers were off concerning the hurricane. The estimated death toll was_ _ **between**_ _six and twelve thousand, not at least. Also, I know it's a little strange that Allen is half-skeptical of Lucinda's abilities, but I just can't stop thinking that circus folk, and less-than-honest "spiritualists" back then were notoriously shady._

 _Again, sorry about the short chapter. If you can spare a minute, please let me know what you think!_

 _Happy Holidays, and please stay tuned! ;D_


	6. Kindred Spirits (Part Three)

_Author's notes (March 2, 2020): Hey y'all! I'm terribly sorry for not updating sooner. The short explanation is that I've been sick_ _ **twice**_ _since my December 22nd update. Also, I know I promised longer chapters, and I actually_ _ **have**_ _been working on this one since early January, but I just can't look at it anymore. (It's been through more rewrites than I can count.) The good news is, the next one has already been started, and will have a surprise! The bad news is, as of this posting, I'm starting to wonder if my last course of antibiotics was strong enough. :(_

 _Also, just so there's no confusion, when I reference Allen's 'past relationships', I'm speaking in purely platonic terms._

 _Dante – Thank you, I'm so glad you like it! :)_

 _As usual, telepathy looks like 'this'._

* * *

 ** _Kindred Spirits (Part Three)_**

Blissful quiet fell upon the house, save for the soft, high-pitched resonance of wind chimes being teased by the mischievous north breeze outside.

Honestly, Lucinda didn't really _like_ cold weather, but keeping the window open, even just a little, meant that she wouldn't have to sage the house of heavy, unwanted energy before finally going to bed.

Hopefully.

Looking back, she couldn't remember a time when there weren't spirits of all ages, sizes, and origins wandering through the rooms of her house, trying to get her attention by any means necessary, some even going so far as to to rummage through her closet or fiddle with her dishes and silverware in the middle of the night.

Though this evening was proving to be relatively uneventful, comparatively speaking, she sighed inwardly, sorely tempted to let herself take full advantage of this rare lull in activity and drift off to sleep.

Much to the blonde's dismay, however, _this particular_ dead man – who wouldn't even give her his name – was being stubborn, and her patience was beginning to wear thin. With her eyes still closed, she addressed him, unaware at first that she was speaking out loud. "Why are you blocking me?"

Pulled from his thoughts on the situation, Allen cast her a sideways glance, mildly startled at the irritation in her voice. "What...?"

Lucinda opened her eyes and turned to him, blinking away the curtain of blackness the tall apparition had imposed upon her. "You must have a knack for getting along with difficult people."

Having put up with General Cross for three long years without losing his sanity, and later Kanda, the poster boy for the word 'difficult' _,_ without once giving in to the temptation to knock the latter on his ill-tempered, judgmental ass (the Millennium Swordsman case notwithstanding), he couldn't disagree, though he rarely complained about how frustrated the two had often made him. Still, as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, his usual nightmares were occasionally replaced by ones where he was forced to share a train compartment with the samurai, as well as his philandering, alcoholic former mentor. Thankfully though, this form of twisted, cruel joke had never happened in real life and hopefully never would.

Allen laughed sheepishly. "Well… I wouldn't call it a 'knack' so much as self-restraint." He paused in hopes of changing the subject, uninterested in potentially having to elaborate on his past relationships. "What did you mean when you said he's _'blocking'_ you?"

Lucinda pondered how best to answer him, then raised an eyebrow and shrugged, settling on the direct approach. "Close your eyes."

Allen tensed, warily. ...Why?"

Amused, Lucinda snorted lightly at his hesitance. Maybe she was wrong – her energy-sensing ability wasn't _always_ correct, or rather, her _interpretations_ – but she had a suspicion that Allen wasn't truly trusting of anyone but himself. Not that she could blame him, really. On the whole, society was rarely kind to people who didn't fit a certain mould _._ In the eyes of history, it wasn't all that long ago that she, Emily, and her aunt would have been tried and executed for practicing witchcraft. Even in this age of Spiritualism, they couldn't escape the whispers and scornful looks of people who were convinced the three were either mentally ill, con artists, or somewhere in between.

Instead of explaining, though, she simply replied with a small, expectant smile.

With that, Allen decided to humor her, just as she wanted. Or so he supposed. "O-Okay."

"What do you see?"

He shook his head. "It's dark..."

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. _I_ _t really_ _ **is**_ _always the pretty ones..._ "Very good, it's _dark."_

Allen returned a perplexed expression. "That's it?"

Amused even further, her eyes sparkled. "You expected some kind of fantastic secret that only psychics know?"

"Ah, well… Maybe? But I definitely didn't think it would be so…"

"Ordinary?"

Allen nodded. "Ordinary."

Lucinda laughed softly. "It's actually a technique they use when they're trying to keep their dirty little secrets, well...secret."

Allen blinked. "Why would a dead person care about keeping secrets?"

Lucinda shrugged. "Sometimes folks who were thought of as upstanding citizens in life," she gestured outwardly, "turns out they weren't as upstanding as people might have thought." She paused. "Although...I don't think that's the case here with your friend. I think he's actually trying to keep me from seeing something he thinks I won't understand."

Steepling his index fingers, Allen sighed. "So...is there any other way to resolve this?"

"Let's see…" She put a fingertip to her lips, then lifted her hand in an upward motion. "He's about six feet, dark-blue eyes, and dark hair…?"

Allen shook his head, frustrated. There was no way he could identify the man from such a vague description, either. Somehow though, he was sure that he could see the faint outline of a figure leaning against the room's door frame. Beyond that, no one in particular came to mind.

He sighed again, this time a little more dramatically. "Sorry."

Lucinda shook her head. "No need to apologize." Her eyes flitted to the doorway and she tilted her head. "He wants you to know he's alright... He says that The Light welcomed him as soon as you separated him from his Innocence, and-"

 _Separated him...from his Innocence…?_ As she continued, Allen's vision blurred suddenly, and his head began to throb as a rapid, violent drumbeat pulsed in his ears. Willing back a bitter, caustic swell of nausea, he hurriedly clasped his left hand over his mouth, as the fingers of his right hand slid to her wrist, unintentionally clamping around it like an angry vice.

The wound on his side forgotten for now, he pulled his knees up under his chin and rested his forehead against them as his entire body began to tremble, flashes of the abomination that was once Suman Dark, followed by Tyki Mikk and his perverted butterfly Teez, replaying in his mind.

Then, as quickly as the twilight scenery of that accursed bamboo thicket began to unfold yet again, a gentle, warm light illuminated the encroaching darkness and guided him back to the safety of the present.

Despite this abrupt reprieve, however, his head was swimming and he struggled to focus. "C-Can't be..."

His tension and nausea quickly subsiding, he lifted his head and slowly opened his eyes, the source of his lifeline back to reality immediately apparent – Lucinda. Or more precisely, her right hand.

Inhaling sharply, his gaze fell to the fragile, red skin trapped beneath his grip. Wrenching his hand away, Allen stuttered a quietly tearful, mortified apology through his leather-clad fingers. "I-I'm sorry…!"

Lucinda shook her head, unconcerned with the condition of her wrist. She'd never witnessed such an adverse reaction to one of her sessions before.

Most of the time, she was merely a messenger delivering the wishes and wisdom of the dead to their living family and friends. In the sporadic cases when a living person came to ask _her_ to connect them with Spirit, that person had specific questions to be answered by those on the Other Side. Granted, _every_ living person had spirits with them at all times – typically guardians and guides – but they rarely spoke unless spoken to.

She chided herself for being so unprepared and not realizing his building anxiety sooner, though it was unlikely she could have done anything to prevent it, considering how quickly the darkness had overtaken him.

Carefully, she placed her hand on Allen's arm, instantly thankful when his breathing started to slow to a normal pace, though a swirl of powerful, negative emotions remained.

 _Fear._

 _Confusion._

 _Sorrow._

 _Shame._

 _Regret._

With a few, quick and silent words, she gathered them into a tight sphere and summoned a shaft of light in her mind's eye, purifying and dispersing the negativity before speaking. "What happened?"

Allen's eyes snapped to hers and he shook his head quickly. "N-Nothing." Gathering his wits as best he could, he paused in an attempt to divert her worry, as well as address what she had just done. "How did you do that just now? That light, where did it come from?"

Lucinda smiled softly, her eyes still filled with concern, despite his deflection. "I'm also an energy healer. Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes, I'm fine." Breaking eye contact and taking in a ragged breath, Allen wrapped his arms around his knees.

It seemed as if she'd proven her ability to communicate with the dead, but he couldn't ignore the fact that the glow from her hand was incredibly similar to Innocence when weaponized and activated.

And, from all appearances, she could control this puzzling phenomena at will.

Allen exhaled slowly as his focus sharpened. He hadn't heard of any unexplained goings on in this particular region, but it was always possible that, if it _were_ Innocence, it had gone unnoticed by functioning in a limited capacity. Now that he thought about it, he, Lavi, Lenalee, Krory and Bookman had come across Mei Ling completely by accident. This very well could be a similar situation.

Except one thing didn't fit with this theory: the glow was very clearly _white,_ not green.

As he pondered this, Allen offhandedly noted that the strange tingling sensation he'd felt when he woke up earlier had returned, and he was much more at ease than he'd been even a few seconds before.

In the end, the exorcist decided to leave the subject of Innocence for another time – likely the next day, as he was fairly certain Lucinda would ask about it anyway – and move on to a more pressing matter.

Again, he straightened and looked up to meet her still-concerned gaze. "This man… Did he tell you his name?"

Lucinda shook her head. "No, he didn't." Her brows furrowed.

"What is it?"

"...He's apologizing; says the last thing he wanted to do was upset you like this." She paused, nodding. _'Sure,that's fine.'_ "He's leaving now...and he says 'thank you'."

Taking a chance, Allen leaned forward, unconsciously reaching out his hand, his silver eyes trained on the spot where he'd last seen the man's silhouette. "W-Wait! Suman!"

* * *

 _So...hey. If anyone out there is interested, I could really use a beta reader. Last one I had apparently sailed off the edge of the world at some point. I've been over this like 6,000 times and I don't see any typos, but I'm sure they're just waiting to come out of the woodwork until_ _ **after**_ _the chapter is live. On a different subject, stop right there! Seriously, I know what you're thinking (maybe), and you're_ _ **wrong**_ _. ;p_

 _Feed the starving fanfic author? Please?_


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